


it cracked me open like someone cut a H O L E in me (but I will kiss you one more time)

by TheLadyTeddy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Multi, TW: Suicide, tw: bellamy's punk ass, tw: city of light mention, tw: cute lexa, tw: lesbians, tw: so fucking done with jason he's reduced me to this shitty piece of work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyTeddy/pseuds/TheLadyTeddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven tries to warn Clarke about the chip, and she can’t bring herself to care.<br/>or<br/>In the City of Light that is where she is, and so that is where Clarke will go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it cracked me open like someone cut a H O L E in me (but I will kiss you one more time)

Raven is slamming Clarke by her collar against the wall, unnaturally strong in her panic as the chip is clenched between gray streaked hands-- the blood having faded and staining once soft palms like the graphite she once used to create instead of destroying. Instead of failing to sew up that which she had caused. The brunette is screaming at her, but Clarke is hollow, the voice ringing in deaf ears and dull eyes like a shallow creek stare back at her.

“You will forget everyone, Clarke. Your Dad, Wells, Finn.” the voice breaks, but it’s so distant compared to the roar of emptiness that has made it’s home in her chest, like the pauna locked behind steel doors, trapped. She is trapped in this world, without Finn, without Wells, without her father and without her. Lexa, with her soft green eyes and so many candles. With her stacks of books and the way she’d crinkled the edges of her eyes at a comment and how her fingertips lingered on Aden’s shoulder when the Nightbloods tumbled into her throne room after training and she’d look them over with a sharp edge of love and strangely guilt. 

Clarke stares at Raven and her head cracks to the side, the edge of her cheek slamming against the metal frame of the wall, the bruise a dull ache and idly she wonders if she deserves this. This hollow broken feeling that drips into her very bones because there is no-one left. Her mother and her had a rift that would never be fixed, as much as she loved her mother Clarke knew that Abby could survive her death, Octavia was locked somewhere between killing her and letting her live with her pain, Bellamy had proven that he’d hand her over to be killed. Even Raven had succumbed to her pain, so why couldn’t she?

Hadn’t she done enough?

Sacrificed enough?

Given enough to her people since she was naught but a young teenager, willing to be floated to attempt to save her people?

Killing Atom with a knife to the throat. Held back every instinct to throw Charlotte off that damn cliff herself for having to find Well’s body in the dirt. Pulling not one lever, but two, in order to slaughter hundreds for her own hundred? Had she not slipped a dagger into her puppy-lover? Had she refused to Emerson? Had she stood up for Lexa time and time again only for them to finally reach their consummation, that point that they both could whisper sweet nothings and know that both of them were ready. Ready for whatever life had in store.

She was the Commander of Death.

The Commander knew when to end her fight, and Clarke would follow her footsteps.

So as Raven stared at her, and the chip digs into her palm she asks Raven that same question.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“You know you’ll forget?” Raven’s voice sounds shocked, and idly it’s a point of pride to confuse the genius.

“I’m not going to forget, I’m going to see them. Her. I don’t plan on staying long enough to forget, Reivon.” Her voice slips into that familiar Grounder dialect. “I know when to end my fight, and I know what I’m doing.”

“Suicide is your brilliant answer?” Raven scoffs, anger lacing her words.

“Yes.”

So much conviction, strength, because she knows that it won’t be long until she can see them again. She just needs a bit of time.

“Clarke please, this... think of your Mom!” Raven sounds like she’s ready to beg.

“Mom won’t miss me, it’ll be like before. I’m gone and planning to never come back, and this time I won’t be.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Maybe, but I’d much rather be a dead fool than a live one trying to live with this.”

“What?”

“This.”

“This what?”

“This hole, this cavern, this massive fucking chunk of my chest that has been receding so so long. I just want to go, peacefully, without interference, please.” Clarke won’t beg, but she’ll ask, politely. Like Dad said was right. 

“No! I won’t let you--” 

Clarke kicked out, harshly, at the weakened knee that Raven had and watched in faint disinterest as she fell to the ground with a yowl. She lifts the chip to her mouth and swallows it as Raven surges forward to knock into her knees, her head smacking the back of the metal. She stares at the dark haired girl who’s eyes are bright with tears.

“You can’t leave me too.”

Clarke lifts a hand and caresses her cheek, she’s shuddering now, the arsenic she had dipped the chip into working its way through her weakened body. She hadn’t eaten properly in weeks since coming to Arkadia, after Bellamy helped lead the 100 in a bloody revolution and Clarke watched with a braid wrapped tightly around her fist and a scrap of red cloth twisted into her dreadlocks and heavy Grounder braids that Lexa had done for her days ago while they watched the sunset and talked about (of all things) Harry Potter which apparently Lexa was reading at the time. Maybe she’d be able to finish the story when she saw her next, tell her what happens to each character and the life they led. The happy ending that Harry had after so many years of sacrifice and pain. His own little slice of Heaven. Didn’t they deserve that?

“I can’t stay anymore, Raven, please. Don’t make me stay.” Her voice is clogged with tears, “I can’t live with myself and without them. I thought I could, but I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re Clarke, you can do anything.” She says her voice like it’s something to awe at.

“I’m a eighteen-year-old who has enough blood on my hands to drown everyone in the 100, I’m a girl not a god. I can’t do this.”

There is something choking her airways and her breathing coming out ragged and she knows that soon it will foam and she’ll choke, die and return to her Heda. There is darkness flickering at her vision and she feels her limbs starting to shake as Raven wraps herself around her chest, trying to trap her very soul in her body. 

Words are being whispered over and over in deaf ears, and there is a dull roar and her eyes focus on that bright light, it looked like Lexa’s eyes when they kisses. Bright and searching in the sunlight and she is reaching for it, though hands are suddenly grabbing at her arms and legs and she is screaming, through the foam and death throes. 

Lexa is there, smiling and soft, in soft red and black leathers and barefoot, there is a dark skinned girl who is sitting on the ground at her feet with an open heart-shaped face, glittering eyes and cleaner blonde hair that Clarke has ever seen on her, a dark-skinned male sitting in a tree while a man tinkers with something in his hand, and she reached and is screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Silence.

She opens her eyes and all she see’s is brilliant light and eyes.

She screams and strikes out, catching Bellamy right in the jaw and she is thrashing, begging to be sent back. Her voice hoarse and begging, it all breaks, and that hollow point in her chest concaves and she is lying back on the bed.

Silent.

A pin could drop.

Calming hands cover over her heated skin. 

She is staring at the slats between the vents that showed off the sky. 

“Clarke, please sweetie, just talk.”

Her eyes flicker and she opens her mouth and nothing. Nothing more than an exhale of air. She blinks; her mother, Jackson, Bellamy, Raven, Octavia and Lincoln. Lincoln approached and gently brushed back her hair and tilts his head down to tap her forehead.

“Wanheda yu gonplei ste odon bants yuj en heya kom our kru.” Lincoln whispers and pulls back, his hand slipping so carefully under the blanket leaving a few berries there. Octavia is giving him a sharp looks and everyone seems to be confused.

Clarke nods back at Lincoln and reaches for his hand and pats it thrice, a flicker of happiness in her eyes.

Her mother doesn’t leaves her side, stalking and pacing, asking her constantly to speak and to move around. Clarke does nothing, waiting for her mother to sleep or be forced out. It’s somewhere around 5am when her mother finally passes out holding her hand, and Clarke slips the berries into her mouth.

They are sweet, bursting and she swallows them seed and all. 

She leaves peacefully and she thanks Lincoln eternally for doing so. 

She is lying on the grass when the green eyes greet her, crinkling and a soft mouth spreading out into a smile.

“Klark,” she shivers at the click in her name, “I had hoped not to see you here for a long time. I had hoped you’d survive.” There is sorrow in her voice.

“Life is about more than just surviving that’s true, but when what I want to survive for has left this world what is the point?”

Lexa is kneeling next to her, hands running over her hair that is soft and clean and there are still braids, and a scrap of red cloth hanging over her shoulder. Clarke takes the time to look down at herself, dressed in a soft grey shirt and loose white pants, a dark blue jacket lying off to the side. She slowly sits up and she feels everything filling in her, the light, the life and she rushes into Lexa’s chest, burrowing her face into the warm neck and sobs fill the air.

Hands are grabbing at her and she is slowly passed to Wells and her cries are filling the air as she clutches to him-- he smells like clean linen and cool skin, with a sharp undertone of tin where his hands used to handle the chess set. Then she is leaning on a barrel chest and her keens turn into high whines.

Jake Griffin is holding her so tightly she might break but she can’t help but feel strength and love, the tang of electricity on her tongue and hot metal that seemed to cling to his strong form. He is holding her and there are identical watches on their wrists and she can’t stop crying, until there is a soft hand caressing the back of her neck and Lexa is there, cross-legged on the grass and smiling and Clarke feels Wells leaning against her back where she is nestled close to her father seated on the ground. She is surrounded by it, by them.

Slowly more figures come, but her vision is too filled with green eyes to notice, and she loses herself in them.

But not for long.

Afterall they have an eternity.


End file.
